Mute
by Bloody Words
Summary: A never killed himself. He just left without a word.


Backup _-Beyond-_ knew he wasn't dead. Aim could never trick the boy with hidden red eyes. He had long known of Beyond's curse, and it had never bothered him. He never saw need to let it get to him, though even L had reacted with fear when it had been proven. Few things reached him. Not even his own pain. Beyond always said it was written all over his face, and then called him out when he threatened suicide. He couldn't hide the fact that he had no interest in ending his own life from the one known human who could see lifespans. Aim had long to live.

That was why he had left Wammy's House, the desire to be a famous detective having disappeared with his childish outlook on life. He didn't want to waste his life on something that was apparently making him unhappy, even though he didn't feel what others thought he did. He left everything behind, other than the promise he took that he would meet Beyond again. He latter learnt that due to his apparent depression, everyone at Wammy's House thought he had committed suicide, and those who knew the truth said nothing to change that thinking. He almost found himself loving the news.

But L wasn't among those who thought him dead. Aim always felt the eyes of L's various contacts on him, and cameras that always seemed to be pointing in his direction. It would have scared a normal person, but Aim was far from caring. L didn't appear to be doing anything obvious. He simply watched him for years, making sure he didn't slip up. Aim was sure that L had pulled strings somewhere, as he seemed to do well in the world on his own and at such a young age that it seemed unreal. Aim wasn't thankful; it was annoying.

The surveillance and control over his life suddenly doubled, and everything was even more obvious. It only took one reading of a news article to tell him why. His sweet devil had used his curse for something useful, it seemed. Aim could only assume that every person Beyond had killed was someone who would have died anyway. Beyond and Aim had discussed theories many times before. One conclusion they reached was that all humans lifespans were set and could never change, but their method of death was determined the day they were destined to die. Beyond had simply done what was determined.

But he felt sadness creep into him, as he realized that he most likely wouldn't see Beyond again, as the killer was in prison, and Aim was considered dead. He had broken the only thing he had from his old life. He had never been one to keep promises, but that one had been special.

Not long after he decided to stay sitting silent on the street bench, a black limousine pulled up in front of him. When it stayed there for five minutes, he knew it was for him and he stood up, but gripping the gun that he had stolen from a man who had tried to mug him. He would get rid of it soon, and if it was found, his fingerprints would go unidentified. He was half tempted to shoot who ever L has sent to talk to him, just to see if he could get away with it. But those thoughts were dashed away, though he was not surprised, when the back window rolled down to reveal L himself. Aim gave him a nod of recognition, but did not speak. Beyond was the only one he ever actually talked to since the day his parents had died.

"B has been charged as a serial killer. " They gave each other equal blank stares, looks that had been perfected from lack of care towards the world. "I believe you may know his motives better than I do. He once mentioned a book, by accident. I'd like to know more about it." Aim actually felt contempt at L's questioning. He would never give away his sweet devils murderous secrets. They were his to keep, the memories of a book they had made together as children. Anyone who read it was driven to madness, as they'd found in glee when they forcefully read it to a sweet young child with the prettiest of grey eyes who afterwards had dead grey eyes and white hair from terror.

_Little B giggled with delight as the little girl squirmed and screeched. Little B showed no mercy._

His mental narration earned a giggle from his throat, and he didn't care what L thought of it. Straddling the gun to his chest, he turned away from the black-eyed detective, and his fancy life. Walking towards the part of the park Aim knew L couldn't follow unless he walked, he smiled widely, though it felt strange on his face. He gained questioning and fearful glares, for his gun and his slightly homeless look. But he had something that L didn't – Socks and Shoes. And when you didn't want have anything to do with L, that was all one needed.

* * *

**I intended this to be longer, with multiple scenes, but I lost interest.**


End file.
